


Consultations

by GryfoTheGreat



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Character Study, Doctors & Physicians, Gen, Gen Fic, Gen Work, Medical, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:12:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GryfoTheGreat/pseuds/GryfoTheGreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There has to be a doctor in there somewhere.</p><p>Character exploration fic, involving an OC doctor in the Scouting Legion and her patients.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Consultation #1-Jaeger, Eren.

**Author's Note:**

> So basically I'm making an OC doctor because I love physics, old medicine and Attack on Titan.
> 
> I'm making a few assumptions here. Firstly, electricity is available, but is mainly confined to the rich people and the military. The Scouting Legion needs it for Hanji's experiments, and our doctor makes use of it as well - in fact, she's currently researching the humble X-ray. Erwin does not approve.
> 
> Secondly, medicine is late Victorian to Edwardian, I'm guessing. They know of the link between dirt and disease and all that fascinating stuff. (Shut up, it really is!) Penicillin, chloroform and opiates are used, but herbal remedies are a big part of their medicine as well. Amputations are common.
> 
> On with the show!

 

 

Eren is nervous. He really shouldn’t be, what with all the crap he’s been through, but he is honest to God scared. Petra’s presence in front of him, her jaunty walk making her ginger hair wave, is the only thing keeping him from having a full-blown panic attack. She looks back at him and smiles reassuringly. “Come on, Eren. Don’t be so worried! Levi just wanted you to get a physical-“

“Hanji already gave me one!”

“A proper, medical physical by a proper, qualified doctor,” she finishes, undeterred. “Seriously, she’s really nice.”

“W... will she give me an injection...?” he asks warily. He really really doesn’t like injections, and those dreams of his deranged father bearing down on him with a wicked looking needle are most definitely to blame.

“Oh, no, not at all!” She shakes her head and his shoulders slump in relief. “She hates them too, so she only gives them when absolutely necessary, and when she does, she gets ‘em over with quickly!” Petra’s smile dims. “Even if she has to go puke after...”

Before he knows it, they’ve reached the unassuming wooden door that accesses the doctor’s clinic. ‘Dr. Zina Bakker’ the nameplate proclaims, letters littered after the name like the trail of a 3DMG. A large green cross is carved into the door.

Petra knocks. “Zina! Doctor Zina!” she yells, hammering on the door.

“Just a second!” a woman yells, and continues in a quieter voice. “Just take one spoonful of this every day, and the runs will go eventually. Try to fix that shower, too. Sleeping in a damp room is incredibly bad for you. And avoid that homebrewed cider too!”

The door opens, letting a sickly man with a bottle of something cradled in his hands leave. The woman he assumes to be the doctor sighs, pushing her hair back from her forehead. “Ever since Tiedemann made that dodgy cider, the entire barracks has been suffering from the trots! I’m almost out of paregoric... Well, at least it isn’t cholera. Come in, come in.”

Eren walks in the door after Petra. The clinic is small, and even cleaner than Levi’s quarters, excepting the small desk stacked with paperwork shoved into the corner. The main room contains three huge cabinets with labels stuck haphazardly all over them, and a large examination table takes up the centre of the room. The walls are covered with diagrams of the human anatomy and eye charts. He notices scales for height and weight, a microscope, and things like thermometers, tuning forks, and stethoscopes are scattered on the cabinets.

Two doors lead from the room. One curtained door leads into what he assumes is a rudimentary operating theatre, what with the antiseptic soaps and water faucets displayed prominently on the wall outside. The other has a big yellow sign on the front, three curved black rays leading out from a central black circle. He shuffles towards it, but the doctor pulls him back. “No, don’t go in there! Our dear Commander won’t give me any more lead, so that room is off-limits. Sit up on table like a good soldier. You’re Eren Jäger, right? Major Hanji’s told me all about you.”

She scrutinizes him while he hops up on the table, so he takes the chance to examine her back. Her hair is short like Petra’s, but darker, fluffier and just plain messier, and her forehead is rutted with frown lines, but her smile is pleasant enough, and her grey eyes are warm. “Are you a soldier?” he asks. She isn’t wearing the proper uniform of the Scouting Legion; instead, she is wearing a loose maroon shirt and dark pants, with a long white coat over it all. She does not bear the Scouring Legion’s wings of freedom either, and instead has a weird symbol of a snake entwined with a rod on her back.

She shakes her head vehemently. “No way! I couldn’t use Three-Dimensional  Maneuver Gear if my life depended on it!” She scowls. “I wish we didn’t have to depend on it. Do you know how many leather burns I’ve treated?”

Petra laughs. “Stop intimidating him!" she say, popping up beside the doctor's side and poking her in the ribs. "The poor boy looks like a frightened little puppy!"

Her scowl softens, and she bumps Petra's hips with hers. “Sorry. The Commander is being unreasonable, and I’ve had a long day... Let’s begin, shall we? Jäger, how old are you?” She pulls out a clipboard.

He reels off vital facts for her (15, 30th March 835, born full-term, no allergies, no underlying medical condition... apart from the whole turning into a crazy Titan thing) and she scribbles them all down, eyeing him critically. She weighs him and measures him and calculates some stupid ratio that he doesn’t understand, but it turns out he’s at a healthy size for his age.  Petra has sat down behind Zina’s desk and is rifling through some paperwork. Occasionally Zina tells her to leave that one alone, or to look over that particular one.

She shines lights into his eyes and ears with a mirror and awkward angles, rings a tuning fork to test his ears, and makes him read the eye chart. Zina then grabs this weird wooden thing and presses down his tongue, and he starts sputtering and spitting at her.  She gets flustered and leaps away from him, yelping at him to stay still. “I really don’t want you coming down with tonsillitis,” she mutters ominously, peering down his throat. “Captain Levi would absolutely murder me.”

She makes him take off his shirt, and probes his chest, stretches out his arms and measures his breadth. “Have you been doing abdominal crunches?” the doctor asks absentmindedly. He nods, and she responds tersely, “Stop. You’ll ruin your back,” and pulls out a really nice diagram of a ruined spine. She checks his heart with a stethoscope and presses two fingers under his jaw, counting betas under her breath. “It’s a little slow,” she says, “but I think that’s good.” Zina then measures his blood pressure, wrapping a cuff around his arm and watching the mercury go up on the scale. She nods, satisfied. “Shirt on,“ she orders, hooking her hair behind her ears. "Legs next."

Zina then rolls up his pants, which leads to a moment of panic. (“I have no wish to see your boxers,” she says, laughing, prodding his Achilles tendon.) She pulls on his calves, pokes at his hamstrings (and lectures him about not overexerting his legs), and hits his knee with a little hammer to test his reflexes (he’s proud to say he almost kicks her in the face), and then finally examines the smoothness of his skin, chewing on her lip, as he fixes his clothes.

“You’re healthier than a horse, Jäger” she says finally, standing up. “No scars, which is something I wouldn’t expect... I’m assuming it’s the Titan’s regenerative abilities. Speaking of Titans...” She grabs his hand and examines it. “You bite your hand to summon it, am I correct?”

“Yes, m...”

“Zina,” she supplies. “No need to be formal.”

“Yes, I do, except sometimes... it doesn’t work.” He shrinks into the table.

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about. I know you heal fast, but biting your hand like that can’t be good, especially if you’re leaving it for a while. Humans shouldn’t even be able to bite through their own skin like that...!” She shifts from one leg to another. “If we could develop some alternative method... but the Commander will call it a waste of resources, and we’ve haven’t got much time besides...” Zina wanders off towards one of her towering cabinets, as Petra stands up and stretches.

“All done?” she whispers into Eren’s ear.

“Yeah,” he says, sliding off the table. “It wasn’t that bad, really. She’s nicer than I thought.”

“Thank you!” Zina calls over her shoulder, and Eren freezes with embarrassment. “Here, this is for you.” She hands him a small pot and a roll of bandages. “If a bite ever fails, apply the poultice and bandage it. I’m sure you can find some pocket in your uniform.” She claps him on the back. “Take care, okay? If you have any problems, my door is open... unless I’m performing an amputation.” She grins at him, her eyes crinkled into a smile.

“Yeah!” he manages.

Petra hugs Zina (the doctor squawks and tries to get out of her embrace) and they leave together, Zina standing in her door, watching their twin pairs of wings recede into the distance.


	2. Consultation #2-Levi.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi is short, scarred, and sleepless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Amy for her comments! I have a little trouble writing Levi believably...

“Captain Levi,” Zina says, exasperatedly. “Measuring you every two days isn’t going to help.”

Levi shoots a look at her from the sides of his eyes. “Au contraire, it could.”

“Stop-” She huffs. “Stop speaking Frankish!”

“Non,” Levi deadpans. “Well? Are you going to measure me or not?”

Zina sighs, and walks over to the scales. “Take off your boots first,” she says drearily.

He was going to take them off. Of course he was.

He stumps up to the scale and hops onto the small platform, and Zina moves over to the side. She pokes and prods his posture until he is standing completely erect (even though he was standing pretty straight already, she just does this to annoy him) and slides the top of the calliper down onto his head with a little more force than needed.

“Watch it, Bakker,” he growls.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, intent on getting the metal slide as close to his head as possible. “Didn’t see ya there.”

“Doctor...” he fumes. “Watch your mouth!”

“Yes, sir. And now...”She makes a note and lifts the calliper up. “160.025 centimetres.”

He stares at her in abject despair. “I... shrunk...?”

She nods mutely, eyes tinged with fear.

“Measure me again,” he demands.

Thirty minutes later, he is now 160.0276 centimetres tall.

“I told you you made a mistake,” he remarks, dusting himself off primly. Zina leans against the wall, face more haggard than it was half an hour ago.

“Yes, Captain,” she says wearily. “That protein diet really has been working... My colleague said it was formulated especially for sho...” She notices the sudden glint in his eye, and coughs hastily. “Vertically challenged people!”

Levi nods in satisfaction, and makes to leave. Doctor Zina has other ideas, and interjects with “Where are you going? I need to look at that cut too.”

“No, you don’t.”He gives her a cold glare.

“Are you going to defy my medical authority more than you already have?” Zina is grinding her teeth together, and he realises that he may have pushed her a little too far today.

Levi is very good at pushing people. He tests their elasticity, see how far their will stretches, see where their temper snaps. He knows from experience that Dr. Bakker has the patience of – well, not a saint, but a Blessed person, at least.

But there has been more discord in the barracks, as of late. Erwin had announced the 57th Expedition recently, and had also announced that almost all of their budget would go to preparations for the expedition.

This didn’t affect Levi, but he had seen soldiers grumbling that small beers were now miniscule, seen the cooks sigh at the ingredients they had to cook with, and even Hanji had come to him, sniffling that her experiments couldn’t continue with this level of funding.

If the cuts had affected Hanji, presumably they had affected Zina as well, and especially her pet project. Levi sneaks an inconspicuous glance at the heavy leaden door. He has never been in there, as it is only in development, but the results of Zina’s experiments had enthralled and frightened him in equal measure. The ability to see through flesh... and the ability to destroy it too.

He sighs heavily, and walks back to table. He scrambles up onto the bed (he has to use one of the cross-bars as a foothold) and unbuttons his shirt while Zina washes her hands. The doctor inspects the torn edges of the wound.

“You need to get those stirrups shortened,” she comments absently, tracing the old scar that the new scar had opened over. “That’s why you fell off in the first place.”

“It isn’t that bad-” he begins to say, but she shushes him.

“I don’t want the old wound to reopen, and if it putrefies...” She shudders, but her shoulders perk up quickly. “Actually... you never told me how you got that old scar.” The old one is ugly and wide, like a titan had taken a swipe at his stomach. The new one is not much better.

He hesitates. “I was glassed in a bar fight when I was sixteen,” he admits, avoiding her accusatory gaze.

She stares at him, ashen eyes wide, and then bursts out laughing.

“What? Hey, stop - stop laughing!” he barks, face reddening involuntarily.

Zina stoops over the table, hand planted firmly on it to steady herself. “Oh, man...!” she gasps. “The old scar’s from a bar fight, and the new one’s from almost impaling yourself on a branch when you fell off you horse! I thought you were going to blame it on a titan! For humanity’s strongest soldier, you can be a total screwball...”

“I’ll leave,” he says bluntly, “if you’re going to continue to treat your superior like this.” He can't stop himself from adding petulantly, “And it was the rookie’s fault that I fell!”

She sobers up a bit, wiping the tears from her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve. “No need to get all superior on me,” she tells him, ambling over to a cabinet. She rummages around in a desk and pulls out some cotton pads, ointment, and cloth bandages. She then fills a bowl of warm water, adding a little soap. “Do you mind if I wash it again?” she asks, making her way back to the table. “That iodine solution should have done a good job, but I want to make sure.” He gives no response but a haughty ‘humph!’, and she takes that as assent. He stays quiet as she washes the wound. “No alcohol?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “Too damaging, even if it has closed,” she murmurs. She swabs away the warm water, and then applies some of the aloe ointment. She bandages his stomach with a practiced hand, cloth wrapping around him like a snake. While she wraps, she speaks. “Sometimes I forget about the whole mob boss thing. I hear it from the greenhorns every now and then, but they admire you too much to ask about it.”She stands back and surveys her work with satisfaction, blowing a strand of hair off her face. “All done!” she proclaims, hands on her hips, and she walks away to wash her hands again as he closes his shirt. Zina is probably the only person in the barracks who is more neurotic about cleaning than he is.

“Thank you,” he says, cordially, standing by the door.

“No problem!” She responds cheerily. “But wait, one more thing – do you need more of that valerian tea?”

He can feel her eyes scrutinizing him, scanning for baggy eyes and pale skin. Levi has always had trouble sleeping. Dreams are supposedly based on what you last thought about at night, and Levi does a lot of morbid thinking, especially when it is dark. He wonders idly exactly how much blood is on his hands as he watches the moon move by, the shadows behind the cloud like a soldier wearing a cloak. His dreams are never definite. He never quite sees the titan fully, never sees the dead body, and never sees the spray of blood caused by his sword. The images are murky, undefined, and somehow that makes them all the more terrifying.

Alcohol was his go to for dreamless sleep beforehand.

Back when he was living among the refuse of society beneath Wall Sina, it had been opium.

“No,” he says, and he is speaking the truth. “I’ve been sleeping fine recently.”

A smile breaks out across Zina’s face, and he almost smiles back. “I’m glad,” she says softly, and he resists the urge to tell her how happy he is too, because he’s sure she already knows. She clears her throat. “Well, it’s time for you to get out of my office.”

“Goodbye, Doctor.” He salutes her and strides down the hall, only barely glimpsing her half-wave in response.


	3. Interlude I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee and gossip with the Special Operations squad... and Hanji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interlude chapters do not take place in the surgery, mainly for plot reasons.

“Did ya hear about the new recruits?” Gunther says conspiratorially, hunching down over the table. “The 104th picked their branches today,” he continues. “Apparently a load joined up!”

Auruo sniffs haughtily. “Yeah, right. We didn’t get anyone from the last batch, and we won’t get any from these!”

“We already got Eren,” Erd interjects. “Can’t forget about him.”

Auruo just pokes his nose higher into the air.

Petra makes a face at him. “In any case, I really hope we get a few more!” She shifts restlessly in her seat. “...But they’re going to get a rude awakening when they hear about the expedition. Poor things.”

Zina finally speaks up, pulling her head put of her coffee mug. “Oh! So is that why the yard was so busy?”

They all stare at her in disbelief.

“What?”

“Unbelievable...” Auruo shakes his head grimly.

“I’m stuck in the surgery all the time! You guys never give me the gossip!” She gives Petra an accusatory glare.

“Sorry, it slipped my mind... You seriously didn’t notice? I mean, Erwin gave them the ‘you’re probably gonna die straight away speech!’ They even arrived this morning, and you still didn’t notice them?”

“I had a breech birth in the village over early this morning! I was too tired to notice anything... Still am, to be honest...” Zina stares into her coffee cup again, probably wishing for the cup to magically refill.

 “Where’d you hear about the recruits?” Erd asks Gunther, trying desperately to get the conversation back on track.

“One of the attendants told me.” Gunther leans back in his chair and braces his feet against the legs of the table. “I heard they got-”

“Twenty-one brand spanking new recruits!” Hanji bursts into the room, and Gunther falls backwards off his chair with a squawk. Zina, after almost falling off her own chair, hunkers down beside him to tend him. “And...” Hanji begins, leaning over the table with a sinister glint in her eye, “Seven of them are ranked in the top ten!”

“Bullshit.” Auruo says flatly.

“No way!” Petra insists.

“Yes way! No BS!” Hanji counters.

“Not a chance, they’d all go for the MP...” Erd points out glumly.

“One did...” Hanji affirms. “But the rest joined our merry band! Wahoo!” She grabs Petra’s shoulder and shakes her, causing the redhead to shriek at her loudly.

Gunther just moans.

Zina stands up. “You’re missing one,” she states quietly. “You said seven joined us, and we already have Eren, so that makes eight. One more joined the Military Police, so that’s nine. The last one...?”

“Died in Trost.” Hanji’s eyes darken, her hands slipping off Petra.

“Does Eren...?” Petra wonders.

“No,” Hanji admits. “I think we should let his friends break it to him.”

The other three nod, and Gunther groans in assent from the ground. Zina remains mute.

“We’re lucky to have Eren, though,” Erd says after a pregnant silence. “They probably all followed his example. I’m sure it wasn’t Captain Levi’s sparkling personality, or the pension, that convinced them.”

Petra smiles. “He doesn’t know about the initiation either. The Captain had him practicing out in the northern yard all day, so he’s crashed out in his room now.”

“Well, I think I’m gonna follow our little titan friend’s example.” Hanji rights herself and stretches. “You’ll follow my example, won’t you? Early day tomorrow!” And with that, she bounces out the door as suddenly as she had come in.

“Little titan friend...” Gunther mutters. “Jeez.”

“Crazy woman,” Auruo agrees. “But, I think I’m gonna hit the sack too. Night, morons.”

“Pot, this is kettle. You’re black.” Erd adds as he elbows Auruo on his way out the door, Gunther in front of them.

“I think I’ll go to bed as well...” Petra rises from her seat. “Zina? Are you coming?”

“Hm?” the doctor jerks her head up, startled. “Yeah, soon. No need to wait up for me.”

Petra nods reluctantly and exits the hall, leaving the doctor alone.

Zina pulls a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket, and grabs a stray pen from further down the table. Smoothing it out, she mutters numbers to herself, and begins to scribble.

“One Commander, four Squad Leaders, one Senior Team Leader, eight Team Leaders, one Senior Medical Officer, five Medical Officers, five Veterinary Officers, and five Remuneration Officers, from 279 – no, 300 members of the Scouting Legion...”

One the calculation are done, she is left with the number 270.

“Ten teams of 27,” she affirms, “Not including the Special Operations Squad.”

She leans back in her chair and chews on the end of the pen.

“270 regular soldiers going into the Giant Field, 21 for the first time.” It sounds worse when she says it aloud. Her chair’s legs clatter back onto the ground. “Eight of our best and brightest.” She throws the pen onto the desk and rips up her piece of paper.

It won’t make the reality of the 57th Expedition go away, but it might delay it.


End file.
